


Five Times

by TheAssassinRenevaron



Category: The Blacklist (TV)
Genre: Angst, F/M, Fluff and Crack, Friendship, Hurt/Comfort, Love, Missing Scene, One Shot
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-08-30
Updated: 2016-08-30
Packaged: 2018-08-12 02:25:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,613
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7916779
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheAssassinRenevaron/pseuds/TheAssassinRenevaron
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The five times Raymond Reddington was there...and the one time he was not.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is a collection of one shots based throughtout the series, centered on Red and Liz's relationship. These are missing scenes of sort and are in no official order. This first chapter is set in Season Three while they're on the run.

* * *

 

Raymond combed his long fingers through her hair from where he sat beside her on her bed and he watches her blue eyes flutter closed. He drops his hand to her forehead, tests her for fever, and she presses into his palm. She’s too weak, too vulnerable, and too _needy_ right now to fight him like she usually would.

“Can I get you anything?”

She tiredly shook her head. Her eyes open and it breaks his heart to see her look so exhausted. Then, she pauses, and Red watches the gears grind in her brain before she flashes him the briefest of grins.

“A new nose, maybe.” Her voice is hoarse with her cold; off-kilter by the stuffy nose and the harshness of her coughing. She’s hardly slept in three days. It keeps him up, too, listening to her cough through the night, but he doesn’t mind. It just gives him the opportunity to be there if it gets too bad. “And some crap-free lungs. ...Probably just a new body in general, though, honestly. But could you be a doll and make sure I get the body of Angelina Jolie?”

Raymond smiled and returned his fingers back to her blonde hair, gently massaging her scalp with his fingertips as well as untangling any knots he comes across. “Her lips have always turned me off.” He frowned, lips pursed, though his eyes were sparkling. “Much too large for my tastes... And she's gotten so _skinny_ these past few years..."

Lizzie snorted in response. “Don’t tell that to the rest of your male species…"

Red hummed and worked at another tangle in her soft hair. He was silent for a moment, rolling the words he wanted to say over in his head. “Jolie has nothing on you, Lizzie.”

“Oh, shut up.” He sees the blush on her cheeks though, a redness that has nothing to do with her being sick, and a sense of accomplishment blooms in his chest.

They go quiet again. It’s comfortable though. Easy. Friendly. Loving. It's amazing how close they've gotten these past few weeks. 

Fluid crackles in Elizabeth’s lungs when she breaths in or out too deep or coughs and Reddington frowns. He keeps his fingers in her hair and silently watches her, ready to jump to assistance if she asked it of him. She’d closed her eyes again a long time ago and now he watches her muscles relax and her breathing slow.

She’s almost asleep when has another coughing fit, and he helps her sit up. He gently rubs her back while she suffers through it, ribs and throat so sore that she winces with every breath, and he’s there to settle her back against her mattress and tuck her in again.

“Red?” Her voice comes out as a tired croak and she reaches over towards him to gently brush his fingers with her own. When he doesn't move his hand, she gives him a small smile and laces their fingers together. 

He looks down at their hands in pleasant surprise and his tone when he finally answers her is distracted. “Hmm?”

“Could you get me some more tissues?”

He had been expecting something other than that, though he wasn’t sure exactly what, and he huffed a laugh. “Of course.”

When he returns with a fresh box of tissues, he pretends not to notice the snot dripping from her red nose. 

Liz takes a tissue from him eagerly and blows her nose, looking like that pains her too. He reaches for the trashcan that he kept placed by her bed for instances such as these and for when she has to throw up in the middle of the night, and she throws the napkin away. The bag was beginning to fill up again. He’d need to take the trash out for the third time tonight. It probably wouldn’t hurt to have Kate bring more Kleenex’s and medicine, either.

“Thank…” She yawns deeply and Red smiles at her again, even though she can’t see it, and he quickly shushes her.

“Get some sleep, Lizzie.” She falls asleep before she can answer him and Red chuckles fondly. He allowes himself to look at her, to _truly_ look at her, just for a few minutes. Even with a raw nose and chapped lips, droopy eyelids, and wild hair...she's as beautiful as she’d always been, if not more so. Ever since she’d been on this run with him, in a race against time as they rushed to clear her name, she’d been only a shadow of her former self. Here, nuzzled into his hand, looking young and innocent and oblivious to the horrors of his world...she reminds him a lot of the young agent he’d met with the day he turned himself into the FBI. He loves both parts of the woman equally the same, though sometimes he wishes he could take her back to that fateful day two years ago before he entered her life. She would have been happier.

He sat there with her for a long time, watching over her like a protective sentinel, even as his hand cramped from playing with her hair and his own eyes grew weary. Eventually, he stood up, pressed a gentle kiss to her forehead, and quietly left the room to call Kate.

He’d make her soup when she woke up, though, and urge her to soak in the bath to clear her sinuses. Then he’d sit right back down beside her on her bed and pass her tissues when she needed them and hold her when she trembled with the start of a fever and to make her a Camomile tea for when she had trouble sleeping again.

It was what he lived for. He’d take care of Elizabeth Keen long after his dying days.

 


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is in Elizabeth's point of view and gives insight to how she's handling being on the run. (Set early S3 after the officer/diner incident.)

Liz stared at herself in the mirror of their latest safe house; a cozy little remote log cabin in the middle of Vermont.

It was getting harder and harder to recognize the woman who’s reflection stared back at her.

Maybe she’d get lucky and all those horror movies where the ghost played with your reflection and stared at you long after you walked away would turn out to be true. Maybe then she could say that the monster in the mirror wasn’t an image of her; that it was an imposter, one trying to scare her, and that _she_ was still pure.

She shook her head. Her life didn't work that way. Besides, no imposter had been in that diner today, just her, and her victim had been an innocent, just doing his job as an officer, a job that she had done many times...and he'd nearly lost his life because of it. Because of _her_. Mark that down to yet another person she'd nearly killed at a diner in the past few weeks. 

Liz stepped away from the sink and started the shower, standing outside the curtain until the water heater was able to creak to life and give her a respectable temperature. When it reached that point, she climbed in and moaned quietly at the first drop of hot water on her skin. It’d been so long since she’d had a proper bath...

Letting the water run down her body, she closed her eyes and tilted her head back, slowly taking deep breaths in the hope that she could work herself into a state of calm and relaxation.

_Don’t think. Just enjoy. You’re back in your old house, getting ready for work. Tom is making breakfast. The dog peed on the floor again. Everything is normal. You’re not here. You’re anywhere but here._

_God damnit._

She couldn’t fool herself. It’s been too long since she’d had that kind of normalcy in her life. It was near impossible to imagine it anymore.

_Fine. Your life is still fucked up, but you are definitely not running for your life because a shadow organization wants your head. You're not a terrorist with a criminal at your side, turning into some kind of freak, and-_

Lizzie turned the water on hotter, too hot to be comfortable, and fought the urge to flinch away as the water scalded her skin. It worked in taking her depressive thoughts away, however, which had been her plan.

She forced herself to think of happier things. Like Aram. His birthday was at the end of the month. Surely her name would be cleared by then? She could throw him a party like she did last year, though hopefully Samar didn’t drag them all to the bar this time. That had not ended so well for any of them. Nothing was worse than chasing down a criminal with a massive hangover. 

Her thoughts went back to The Cabal. She’d probably be dead by the end of the month. Most likely assassinated in her sleep. Aram and the others would have to celebrate without her, though she doubted they would care. Aram might, but the others... Besides, doing things without her probably came easily now.

Liz fought the urge to sob. What a mess her life had become… She’d lost her husband. Lost her job. Lost her friends. Not to mention the thousands of other things; like her faith in the good of the world or her ignorance towards the powers that manipulated it.

Her back had gone numb beneath the heat of the water and she turned around to torture the other side of her body. She needed a distraction before she lost it and this wasn't helping. 

Eventually, she slumped to the floor of the tub and curled her knees to her chest. She let the water run over her. She knew she should actually wash her hair and her body, but the crippling anxiety that squeezed at her chest and throat made it impossible to want to do anything other than sit here and hope that she would disentegrate if she sat long enough and wash down the drain. She tried to swallow past the lump in her throat as hot tears pricked at her eyelids.

Was shooting Connally worth it?

Her breathing became a struggle, harsh shuddery breaths that threatened to drown her until she gave into her emotions, and she buried her head in her arms to make it all go away.

Yes. It was worth it. They’d threatened her loved ones. The Cabal, at least for now, were focused on _her_ and not _them_ and that was good. That meant the others were safe.

The water had gotten colder. She must have been in here awhile. Red wouldn’t be happy she’d used up all the hot water before he could bathe too.

He would understand, though. He always did. 

 _Red…_ He’d taken her to Italy for a few weeks, having remembered her saying so long ago that she’d always wanted to visit. That had been a beautiful trip. He owned a winery, turns out, and that was where they had stayed while in the country. He’d taught her how to make wine, and taken her to Venice, and to Rome. They’d spent hours every night taste testing all the different wines and foods the country had to offer and roaming the beautiful countryside. It’d been nice. It was the most relaxed she'd been in awhile. 

She couldn’t understand why he did so much for her though; why he cared. Especially now that she’d turned into this...this _thing_. She didn’t deserve it.

The tears that she’d fought so hard to keep at bay sprang free. They came out in loud jarring sobs. Ironically, they were the first tears she’d cried since this whole mess started. She’d usually been too busy running to think much of her situation beyond the need to survive and succeed. 

The water was ice cold now, shocking her system even more than the boiling hot had. Despite the urge to turn it off, she forced herself to stay where she was for several minutes. Goose flesh covered her body and she shivered, but still she made herself stay.

A knock on her door made her jump. The tears stopped, held back momentarily by trepidation, and she looked over towards the closed door.

“Lizzie?” It was Red. “Don't stay in there too long. You'll catch cold.”

She blinked. Had he known she’d run out of hot water long ago?

Of course he had.

He knew what she was putting herself through.

She stood up and turned the water off, suddenly feeling so very tired. It was a tiredness that ran through her very core; one that stemmed from weeks of being hunted like prey. She just wanted it all to be over. She remained behind the shower curtain with her hand on the faucet and pressed her forehead to the tile.

_Just breathe..._

“Are you alright?” She could hear the concern in his voice. He was probably worried that she’d hurt herself or fallen asleep in the bath. “Lizzie?”

No, she wasn’t alright. She wasn’t sure she ever would be.

“I’m coming in,” he said and she made no move to stop him.

He entered the bathroom warily. She could practically feel the fear rolling off him. She heard the cabinet open up and then close. He’d gotten her a towel.

“Lizzie?”

He slowly pulled the shower curtain back, just far enough to see her face. She opened her eyes to look at him. Green eyes full of life (tinged with relief upon seeing her alive, but then immediately filled with concern and heartache) met tired blue ones that felt empty and defeated. Normally, she would have been embarassed at him seeing her physically and mentally _naked_ , but right now she could care less. Wordlessly, he opened the towel up for her and wrapped her tightly in it. 

“Come on, sweetheart. Let’s get you out of here and into some warm clothes. You’re freezing… Watch your step.” He helped her shaking, broken form out of the shower then pulled her into his arms for a tight, desperate hug. She returned his embrace, snuggled against his chest despite her wet hair, and closed her eyes.

Red’s hand gently held the base of her neck and she felt him press a light kiss to the crown of her scalp. “I’ve got you. You’re okay.”

She took deep breathes, eagerly drinking in the scent of him, and felt herself slowly relax. He always smelled like expensive cologne and cigar smoke and gun cleaner. Some days he smelled like aftershave and scotch. 

When she’d first met him, she’d thought of Sam every time she stood near enough to smell the cologne he used, because the pair smelled similar in many ways. Only, compared to the richness of Reddington, Sam smelled like Old Spice and cigarettes and engine grease. Though some days he smelled like aftershave and scotch, too.

Either way, it was all part of a musky mixture that Elizabeth had fallen in love with.

After several long moments, Raymond stepped away from the hug, mumbling something about how she should get dressed. He kept a supportive hand on her back, though, as he led her across the hall into her bedroom.

She dressed silently, knowing he was waiting for her outside her bedroom door, and when she joined him again she felt lighter. In the shower, she’d thought herself unloved and alone. She had lost Tom and she was sure she’d lost her friends. But with Reddington here, smiling encouragingly at her and holding out his hand for her to take, she realized how wrong she’d been. The whole world could hate her, but he’d still be here. Right now, that was the only thing that mattered. 

 

 


End file.
